


i'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest

by danlester (isaacmclahey)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, except i worked it into a prompt yay, flower shop au, plant boy!phil, space boy!dan, this is basically the first half of a space!dan plant!phil au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaacmclahey/pseuds/danlester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slams 20 bucks on the counter and says “how do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” - requested by goshcas on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the trees keep the tempo and they sway in time

_i’d rather waltz than just walk through the forest, the trees keep the tempo and they sway in time, a quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus, if i were to pluck on your heartstrings would you strum on mine? - plant life, owl city_

 

The mini jungle that Phil had grown to live in had practically become a second home; the green leaves and blooming flowers were so soft and welcoming that when he entered each morning, he breathed a sigh of contentment. Working in the flower shop had always been a part time job, but then the owner had gotten seriously ill at the end of Phil’s final year of university, and Phil had agreed to take main control over the summer whilst the woman was in hospital. Thankfully, the doctors predicted she would be coming back in October, so Phil only had to stay on until then, but it wasn’t like he had a plan for afterwards anyway. It was an excuse to stay a little longer in Manchester, and business was good, so he knew he’d be earning money whilst he did it. Another bonus was that he got to stay in the apartment upstairs whilst she was away, having moved all her stuff to her sister’s apartment, as it was much closer to the hospital.

It had been 3 months since Phil had taken it on, and, whilst the first few weeks had been a disaster, he had soon gotten the hang of it. Watering the plants in the morning was his favourite thing to do, but generally the customers were steady - less on weekdays, but still a few an hour - so Phil did odd jobs in between helping people, even learning the language of flowers to add an extra something to the potential customer experience.

This really came in handy on the second of August; it was a warm day, and the plants were dropping a little, but were still cocooning Phil in their jungle-like state. He’d just helped a middle aged woman who’d come in looking for a plant for her mother, and he’d somehow convinced her to buy a few for herself as well, along with some tools and a little handbook on how to start a herb garden. As she left, Phil let out a sigh, flapping himself with his hands to try and cool down, and failing; it only made him the tiniest bit cooler and he was probably making himself warmer in the long run by waving his arms around. Continuing with his accounting for the month, and pulling out the notebook to compare against the expenditure list, Phil had only just clicked his pen (it had a little cartoon tree shaped into a dinosaur with ‘Tree-Rex’ written on it) when the bell on the door rang.

Phil put down his pen, looking up and getting ready to greet the customer- but the customer was already in front of him, his soft brown eyes curiously furious.

“Uh, hi.” Phil managed to stutter out, but he couldn’t hide his surprise.

“How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” The customer asked, bypassing the friendly greeting completely, and staring far too intensely at Phil for what he was asking, a £20 note already slammed on the table in front of him.

“What?” Phil asked, completely taken by surprise, but his brain was already working on it-

_Geraniums for stupidity, foxgloves for insecurity, meadowsweet for uselessness, maybe some yellow carnations to say ‘you have disappointed me’-_

“Sorry,” The customer finally managed to regather himself, “My landlord’s just kicked me out for ‘noise complaints’, and I want to send him a ‘Thank You’ gift.”

He did some really exaggerated air quotes around the ‘thank you’, but Phil could already tell he was calming down, and decided to stick to his regular charm to try and reduce the anger in the guy even further.

He was kind of gorgeous as well, which didn’t help.

“I can help with that.” Phil reassured, packing his accounting notebook away again (like he was ever actually going to do it anyway), and reaching under the table for the handouts on flower arranging. “I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s gonna be an extremely strange bouquet, but I assume that’s okay with you?”

“That’s absolutely fine.” The guy ran his hand through hair, fluffing it up a little, and Phil couldn’t help but fixate a little on how the ends were curling in the heat. “The weirder the better.”

As Phil double-checked the flower meanings on his handouts, the seconds ticked by, the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the cars driving past being the only things that interrupted them. Whilst he waited, the customer wandered around the shop - not that it was particularly big, but just enough to walk around - and read the little labels Phil had put up around the shop. They were mainly mini guides to the plants tagged on the shelf they were on, saying roughly how much attention they needed, where they needed to be kept, etc., which had kept Phil fairly busy for the entirety of the third week; they had proved to be fairly useful as well.

“Do you want them in a gift bouquet or just normal?”

“Normal’s fine.” The guy seemed to be significantly calmer now, his hands now in his pockets rather than in fists, and his eyes were simply curious, rather than curiously furious.

Upon closer inspection, he appeared to be wearing a galaxy patterned jumper, and had two earrings that looked suspiciously like planets; it didn’t take three guesses to know what his hobbies were. Despite his curiosity, Phil didn’t really know how to ask this stranger about his space connections, but he felt it was probably a nerdy connection rather than an aesthetic choice. Then again, Phil was wearing a shirt with a cactus on it, so he probably didn’t have a right to internally comment on other people’s dorky clothing.

Gently, Phil put the flowers from the room behind him together into a bouquet, arranging them artfully so they looked a little less strange, but not really managing. He’d realised that he also needed orange lilies to represent hatred, and they really added to the weirdness. Well, at least it was something new for him to do?

“I presume you’re not Jasmine, then?”

Phil snapped out of his plant reverie, looking up at the customer blankly for a few seconds before he was referring to the name of the shop; ‘Jasmine’s Flowers’.

“Oh, yeah, no.” He grinned, before carefully trimming the stalks of the foxgloves, “I’m Phil, Jasmine’s the owner but she’s really ill, so I’m taking over for a couple of months.”

“Oh, cool.” He replied, but he was frowning slightly, “Wait, are you at Manchester Uni?”

“I just finished.” Phil was surprised at the accuracy of the question, but he supposed this guy couldn’t be much younger than him, so may have gone as well. “English Language. Were you on my course or something?”

“Nah, I just remember you were part of the LGBT society, right?”

“Yeah, I helped organise the fundraisers.” Half of the bouquet was done, and Phil still felt like he knew nothing about this guy. “What course were you on then?”

“Law.” He made a face, and Phil wasn’t really sure whether to push it further, but he seemed to do it for him. “I just dropped out actually, last week. Did the first year, and that was enough. It was awful.”

“And now your landlord wants to kick you out? Bad week for you.” Phil teased, hoping the mood wouldn’t drop, but the brown-haired man took the teasing well, groaning a little and putting his head in his hand, leaning on the table in front of the till, a good 2 feet from where Phil was making the bouquet.

“Don’t get me started.” He grumbled, “Noise complaints.”

“Do you know what they’re because of?”

“What, the complaints? Ugh, yeah, it’s really stupid.”

“Now you’ve just intrigued me.” A grin was playing on Phil lips, the easy chatter between them a nice break from the normal conversations abouts hyacinths and geraniums. He was layering the flowers carefully, almost finished arranging before starting the decoration.

“It’s because of me watching horror movies, and screaming too loud. That’s literally it.”

Phil couldn’t help but laugh at that, his eyes scrunching up behind his glasses and the noise ringing out through the tiny shop; he managed to control himself pretty quickly, but his giggles were involuntary.

“I’m sorry, that’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard why someone got kicked out of their flat.”

“Tell me about it.” He mumbled back, but he was clearly trying to hide a smile as well.

Taping the shiny paper around them delicately, and attaching a packet of ‘plant food’ for good measure, Phil stepped back to admire his masterpiece.

It had only taken ten minutes to get everything together, but it had gone so fast it had only felt like one; the excitement of figuring out the new flowers was probably the most exhilarating thing that Phil had done since attempting to put up hanging baskets by standing on a broken crate last month; he’d been preparing to break his neck any minute.

“I think it’s done.” He said, trying to signal to the other guy without having to directly say ‘okay that’s £15.20 please’.

“Great, thanks so much.” The guy smiled, a little tiredly, but the anger had left him completely.

“What films were you watching that made you scream so loud anyway?”

“I think The Ring was the worst contender.” The guy admitted, and Phil couldn’t help but be endeared; he was so unafraid to show his emotions?

“Well, clearly you just need someone to hold your hand through it.” He said, off-handedly, punching the numbers into the till, and pressing total.

“Do you think you’re up to the task?”

Shocked, Phil looked up from the till, meeting the guy’s soft brown eyes, and staring for a moment in disbelief; the flirtatious nature was instantly confirmed by the fact that he looked more than a little nervous as to Phil’s response.

“Uh, sure.” He knew it was ineloquent, but there wasn’t really many other ways to say it. “Three things I’ll need from you though - your name-?”

“Huh? Oh, Dan.” Dan looked incredibly relieved, a smile sneaking onto his face.

“And your number-?” Phil pushed the pen and a scrap piece of paper from earlier accounting towards him, waiting patiently while he wrote down the 11 small digits.

When Dan finally looked up, expectantly waiting for the third thing on Phil’s list, Phil couldn’t help but grin.

“And £15.20 for the bouquet.”

Dan laughed a little at that, but pulled the twenty pound note back out of his pocket and slid it across the desk, clearly a lot more relaxed than before now that his offer had been a success.

“The second Conjuring film comes out this week, do you wanna see that?” Phil asked, lightly, as he counted out the change. “If you can handle it, I mean.”

“I can too handle it.” Dan said, indignantly, but he accepted his change gracefully, and Phil knew he hadn’t really offended him.

“Great, I’ll text you later then?”

“Sounds great.” Dan looked almost disbelieving as he picked up The Weirdest Bouquet Ever, “Thanks for the ‘fuck you’ flowers.”

“You’re welcome, good luck with your landlord.”

“Thanks. See ya.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

They were both grinning as the bell rang behind Dan, the shop door closing softly behind him and giving Phil a good chance to check out his arse.

Greenery and leaves surrounded Phil once more, the oxygen refreshing his lungs indefinitely and the colours making his vision pop. The world suddenly looked so much brighter than it did before, and suddenly the looming accounting work didn’t look quite so menacing.

Being a plant nerd had _finally_ paid off.


	2. when the galaxies crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they see that movie, then they delve into Dan's secret space obsession

_dear God, i was terribly lost when the galaxies crossed and the sun went dark. but dear God, you’re the only North Star i would follow this far - galaxies, owl city_

Dark night blanketed the two men walking along the Manchester streets, the amber street lights leaving small, soft pods of illumination along the way. It was nearing 1am, and they’d just got the bus back to Dan’s apartment after much deliberation - the film had been decent, but not as scary as they’d expected, and they had been trying not to talk the whole way through. Despite living in a huge city, they couldn’t decide on somewhere to go and get something to eat, so finally Dan offered his apartment, which - even though it was kind of on the outskirts - was only one bus ride away.

They were laughing as they went, Phil occasionally attempting to spook Dan, but he refused to let himself be scared; the darkness of this street was too familiar for him, and he would be _damned_ if his first scream as a result of this boy was in a way that wasn’t sexual.

As they approached the door, he hesitated - not because of the implications, but because his apartment was a bit weird in the grand scheme of things.

“Okay,” He said, when the key was in his hand, poised and ready to unlock the door, “Before we go in, I need you to promise not to laugh.”

Small adjustments to Phil’s features betrayed his surprise and mild alarm, but he smiled reassuringly, and nodded.

“Pinky swear.”

“Okay.”

Dan took a deep breath and unlocked the door, before leading the way up the stairs to the top floor of the block. The stairs were old and worn, and the corridor was dark, with a broken lift; it wasn’t exactly glamorous, but that wasn’t the part Dan was worried about; the interior of his apartment was incredibly specialised - not in a ‘Christian Gray’ way, but in a really nerdy way.

As he pushed the door to his flat open, he kept an eye on Phil’s expression, observing his reaction, but it seemed to be mainly awe.

Of course, Dan had only just moved in, so a lot of stuff was still in boxes, but there was so much stuff he just couldn’t do without; for example, his telescope and all the assorted books were out of their boxes, most of them open on certain pages with little pink sticky-note bookmarks. A lot of his pictures had also already been put up on the walls, and most of the furniture was loosely in the right place.

And it was almost all space themed.

“Wow.” Phil finally said something, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth, and his eyes full of wonder.

“Really?” Dan asked, clearly nervous about Phil’s reaction, but he was soothed a little by this response.

“Yeah.” Phil moved further into the flat, gently running his fingers over a few of the books in a faint wonder, his small smile seeming to confirm something within himself.

Suspicions confirmed, Phil let himself bask in the glory of being right; when he’d seen Dan’s little moon earrings this evening, he knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence - especially since Phil had mentioned space in passing and Dan had had plenty to say. Either way, this was not what Phil had expected when he got to Dan’s apartment, even with his secret guessing.

Suddenly, a realisation hit him.

“Oh my God,” The boxes all around him finally dawned on him, as he spun around to look Dan in the face with faint horror in his eyes, “I’m sorry, I was so rude - you’ve only just moved in and I practically invited myself round, God, I’m so sorry-”

Dan’s initial terrified expression died down significantly after he heard Phil’s explanation.

“No, seriously- don’t worry about it.” He tried to reason with Phil, the relief hitting him in the chest like a 10 foot wave. His smile crept back onto his face, and he moved into the tiny kitchen to prepare drinks. “Do you want coffee?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Phil still felt bad, and followed Dan to the kitchen, biting his lip and unable to sit still.

As Dan rummaged around for coffee in one of the boxes on the floor, Phil decided to move on from his awkward outburst and instead address the elephant in the room.

“So,” The kettle began to rumble as it began its task, “How long have you liked space, then?”

Even with his head in a cardboard box, it was obvious that Dan was smiling - and then grinning - when he stood upright, his slightly dishevelled hair only adding to the adorableness of his aura; his enthusiasm was evident and they hadn’t even begun talking about it yet.

“Since I was about 6. We did it at school as a topic and that was kind of it.” The kettle’s rumble was increasing in volume, but it didn’t bother them. “I asked for a telescope for my birthday, and I got some books, and then just- woosh. Obsessed Dan.”

“Sounds cool.” Phil could practically picture little Dan. “What happened with the Law degree then?”

Slowly breathing out, Dan visibly thought for a moment, before explaining.

“I guess space wasn’t ever a realistic career thing for me. I mean, do you know how much _maths_ it requires to get anywhere near the stars?”

“True.” A grin was creeping onto Phil’s face involuntarily; Dan was so unconsciously hilarious, and the drop of shyness in his tone made it so bloody _endearing_.

“And then my parents thought Law would be a good move for me, so I signed up for that and got onto courses and everything. But then they found out I was gay, and that’s basically why I have an apartment during the summer months.”

Phil had been wondering, but he was too afraid to ask.

“I’m sorry.” He said, lamely, but Dan waved his hand as a way of dismissing it.

“It’s in the past now. And I’ve just quit, so,” He poured the boiling water into the cups as a way of avoiding Phil’s eyes. “The world is my oyster.”

“True - you could finally follow the stars.”

Dan laughed a little, and shook his head as he got the milk out the fridge.

“Not with 4 unrelated A-Levels I can’t. English Lit, Geography, Psychology and English Language. Really space-like.”

“Space journalist?” Phil offered, causing Dan to laugh instantly, “Like, y’know, on the space station.”

“Ah yes; today more dried food was consumed, nobody yet understands how the toilet works and we still haven’t met any aliens.”

“I’d read it.”

“The Space Gazette.”

“Perfect! Branding already set out.”

“Here,” Dan gently handed Phil his coffee, remembering how he drank it from a previous conversation, “Shall we go next door?”

“Sure.” Phil led the way out of the tiny kitchen and into the box-cluttered room. Again, the twinge of regret appeared in his chest, as he realised what a pain it must be for Dan to host him like this.

They sat side by side on the sofa (complete with galaxy cushions) and sipped their drinks. Dan continued to talk Phil through a lot of the space memorabilia in the lounge, the little knick-knacks scattered on the crappy little mantelpiece in particular. Up there, he explained that he had some relics from when he went to the NASA headquarters in Washington - he’d gone for his 16th birthday with his parents, and he’d spent almost £100 in the gift shop.

“I still have no regrets.” He added, on this subject, when Phil teased him about the amount. “I got some really cool stuff, totally worth it.”

Then, Dan pointed out the mini artworks of space he’d done; the pointillist paintings from high school, the sloppy watercolours done by a 13 year old hand, and the grand, sweeping acrylics he’d done when he was 8. Each one was so beautifully, utterly Dan that it hurt, the purples and blues and pinks of galaxies swirling cosmos into existence.

After 15 minutes, Dan began to quieten, realising that he’d talked too much about himself, and tried to turn the conversation to Phil, but Phil refused, asking so many questions he thought he would overflow with them all.

“The best bit about this apartment,” Dan revealed, after many more enquiries, “Is that it has an accessible roof.”

“Really?!”

That was quite a rare thing to have in an apartment block - normally the roofs were blocked off at all costs.

“You wanna go up?”

“Sure.” Phil put his coffee mug down on the table enthusiastically, eager to see what Dan could show him in the sky.

They were halfway up the stairs (damn broken lifts) when they both decided they needed a mini break (they weren’t made for stairs, they were made for their respective primarily indoor hobbies). After a short pause, they began to move again, Phil groaning a little as they started to move, ignoring Dan’s fond smile.

And so Dan took Phil’s hand, to gently encourage him up the stairs; and it made his palms tingle with unrestrained excitement and his breath hitch in his throat.

It felt almost magical to be in that stairwell, almost like being stranded in the galaxy - devoid of oxygen and stunned by stars - stuck in a supernova of overwhelming light. However, Phil fought to push on, blinking past the dizzying

When they reached the top of the stairs, they pushed open the door and fell out into the night air once more; the sky was a little muggy with the weight of the streetlights and the population, but they were far enough out that it wasn’t too bad.

“They turn the streetlamps off between 2 and 4.” Dan said, quietly, his hand still neatly tucked in Phil’s as they observed the sky together, “To reduce light pollution and electricity bills. It’s kind of amazing how clear the sky goes by 4.”

Since it was already 1:30, they decided to wait and see the sky without the blast of burning amber from below.

They hadn’t bought jackets, but it was August, so they sat on a few of the deckchairs that someone had brought up at some point, having stacked them just inside the door.

“So you’re still not spooked then?”

“What?” Dan responded, having zoned out whilst watching the sky, which wasn’t exactly uncommon.

“By the film?”

“Oh.” Dan turned in his deckchair to face Phil, who was already lying in a similar position. He ignored the teasing smile on Phil’s lips and instead answered him sincerely. “No, not really. If you want to scare the shit out of me, all you have to do is mention The Ring.”

“I’ll remember that.” Phil replied, his grin leaning towards wicked, instead of teasing at this point. “You’re going to regret saying that so much.”

They bantered back and forth for the remaining time, both going silent as the streetlights deluminated; they watched as the stars started to twinkle into existence, gently nudging their way to the surface of the inky blackness.

“Okay, this is pretty cool.” Phil said, finally, in a halting whisper that effectively communicated his awe. After a few seconds of silence, he turned to face Dan in his deckchair, wanting to check if Dan had heard him, but he was startled when he turned to find Dan staring straight at him.

Phil did kind of expect Dan to move, or shift his gaze at least out of embarrassment, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept up the intense gaze, his eyes betraying that he was a little nervous about this move, but he wanted to do it.

“Uh, hi.” He said, eventually, in response to Dan’s hesitant stare, and Dan let a small smile brush onto his face.

“Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Their faces were kind of separated by the deckchairs, even though they put them literally up against each other, and this was extremely disadvantageous in their case. Lips were far too far apart for casual closeness, as much as they both wanted it, and they were both aching for it in their chests.

After a few seconds, Phil made the move, gently lifting himself up so he wasn’t slouching, and watching as Dan did the same; but as soon as Dan did so, Phil’s soft fingers grazed Dan’s chin, gently directing it, but pausing before the action.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice sounded almost hoarse.

Dan replied with a gentle press of his lips, instantly evoking action from Phil, and they began to move hands to touch all the places they wanted; Dan’s fingers found Phil’s hair, and one of Phil’s hands found the back of Dan’s neck, and Phil began to draw a line with his fingertips unconsciously-

But Dan suddenly juddered to a stop, pulling away.

Dread seeping into Phil’s stomach, and he started to panic that maybe Dan hadn’t wanted this - that he’d read the signals all wrong - but Dan was smiling when he pulled away.

“Sorry, my neck’s really sensitive.” He explained, with a touch of shyness, “It was nice, I just- I might accidentally smack you out of instinct.”

“Oh.” Phil let the air steam out of his lungs in an instant, his body relaxing from the tense cage it’d become. He smiled back at Dan reassuringly, one hand still grazing his chin, and let his eyes drop a little, before raising them again, hopefully. “So this was okay?”

“Yeah, oh shit, yeah, no - that’s fine.” Finally following Phil’s process, Dan used these eloquent words to reassure him, but shifted a little in his seat - they were sat at an incredibly awkward angle, and they were both kind of sliding, thanks to the deckchair material. “More than fine. Awesome.”

“Well, I’m always glad to know what the critics think.”

“You’re welcome. The 4 star review will be published in the Space Gazette soon, keep your eyes peeled.”

They gently broke apart a little, reshuffling until they were both a lot more comfortable on their chairs, but unfortunately they couldn’t maintain their previous bodily contact to keep up that comfort. However, Phil had only really just processed the details of what Dan said.

“Wait, FOUR stars? What did I do wrong?!”

Dan burst out laughing at Phil’s outraged expression, and couldn’t quite stop laughing throughout the rest of Phil’s spluttered exclamations.

“Where did my extra star go?!”

It took Dan a few moments to calm down, but he couldn’t stop the grin stretching across his face.

“Nowhere. It’s just waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the follow-up kiss.”

“What?”

But Phil hadn’t misheard; when he met Dan’s twinkling eyes again, he almost couldn’t believe that this guy was so cheeky and blasé about it all, but then again - combined with the tentative shyness - it kind of seemed totally ordinary. Slowly, Phil stood up, and held out his hand for Dan to take, gently helping him up, before leaning in again, fingers along Dan’s chin and other hand firmly on his waist. Dan responded eagerly, and they silently set temporary boundaries as they went, learning what each other liked in this situation.

Unfortunately, Phil pulled away after 30 seconds, Dan chasing his lips a little, but pulled back too after a second of slight embarrassment.

“Did I win that extra star?”

There was barely even a nod, before their lips were brushing again, and Dan twisted his fingers into Phil’s hair; this caused Phil’s jaw to drop involuntarily, and then the kiss deepened considerably. Their hands began to wander once more, gently tugging and pulling the clothing back and forth.

And there they were, left under the stars, stood next to two crappy deckchairs on the top of a small block of flats; they felt on top of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok............i love this au a lot

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is danielljameshowell for any questions/prompts u got (also for extra drabbles that i dont bother posting on here)


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